


Escapist

by pineapplefan



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Crying, Depression, Family, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplefan/pseuds/pineapplefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bouts of depression had pulled them all under at different times during the past year – it wouldn't be natural if it hadn't. They knew how to wait it out, how to deal with it. But this seemed like something more. Something that resembled dysfunction. Something serious. [Rated M for potentially triggering depictions of mental illness and strong language.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darry wasn't eating much.

It wasn't much of a shock by this point. He rarely ate with the voracious appetite he once had, something Sodapop had only really started to take note of now that everything had fallen back into a routine.

If Soda were honest with himself, he'd acknowledge that Darry's suffering appetite was cause for concern, because it always had been.

Even so, Darry plastered that confident smile on his face and Soda found himself thinking _he's okay, we're all okay._

Tonight, Sodapop was cooking dinner because Darry had fallen asleep in the armchair seconds after returning from work. When Ponyboy had gone to wake him up – he was hungry – Sodapop shook his head.

"Don't," he said quietly. "I'll make dinner tonight."

It was simple enough. Darry had pulled out some chicken to defrost that morning, so all Soda had to do was stick in the oven. Ponyboy helped him peel some potatoes and Soda cooked up some carrots.

"What color are you going to make the mashed potatoes?" Ponyboy inquired.

Sodapop chuckled. "I think I'm just going to let them be tonight." He figured there'd be a better chance of Darry eating if there were normal looking potatoes on his plate.

He was wrong.

Darry played it off like he was hungry and excited about the meal Sodapop had prepared. But as the meal went on, Soda saw that his brother was just rearranging the food on his plate so that it looked like he'd eaten more than he had.

"You should eat some more," Soda said, when Darry set his fork down.

"I'm full, Sodapop," Darry answered swiftly, and gave him a smile. "It was really good, though."

Sodapop ignored the praise, cocked his head to the side, deciding to ask the question he'd been itching to ask for over a week now. "You feelin' all right?"

Darry seemed to cringe at the question, but acted as if he hadn't heard. He just coughed into his elbow and stood up. "Thanks for cooking tonight, little buddy." He started clearing the dishes. "Ponyboy, you got homework?"

Ponyboy frowned and looked at Soda questioningly.

Soda waited for a few beats. "Dar, it's summer vacation, remember?" he said slowly, a strange sinking feeling in his gut. "Ponyboy got off school last week."

Darry seemed to process what Soda said, and then he laughed, sunny and bright. "I know. I was just kiddin' with ya, Pone. Come help with dishes."

Ponyboy shot another glance at Sodapop before obeying.

Somehow, it was painfully obvious to both of them that Darry hadn't been kidding.

_He's okay, we're all okay._

xxx

Ponyboy and Darry both slept in the next morning. It was Sunday, and Darry had the day off. Ponyboy had been sleeping more and more ever since he'd gotten back from Windrixville. He was a growing teenage boy, after all, with no responsibilities.

Ponyboy roused around 11:00, and was surprised when Soda told him he'd been out-slept by Darry.

"I heard him coughing last night," Ponyboy said with a shrug, heading to the icebox for some chocolate cake. "Maybe he didn't sleep too well."

Sodapop frowned hard. "Yeah, maybe."

xxx

When there was still no sign of Darry by noon, Sodapop decided to go check on him.

He opened the door to his bedroom quietly, not wanting to wake his brother. But Darry was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands bracing his knees. His eyes were closed.

"'Bout time you got up!" Sodapop said loudly, causing his brother to start. He smirked and crossed the room to open Darry's blinds.

"Good morning to you too…" Darry mumbled.

"Try 'afternoon,'" Soda corrected, turning around to face his bleary-eyed brother. "You hungry?"

Darry paled even further and said, "Uh, no." He sniffed and coughed without bothering to cover his mouth. "Think I'm sick."

Soda swallowed hard. "What's wrong?" he demanded. He started towards Darry, who held up a hand, keeping him back.

"Just a cold or somethin'," he said, raising his eyebrows at Sodapop's obvious concern. "Don't overreact. Jesus."

"Just a cold…" Soda repeated. Of course he'd figured Darry had been coming down with something with all the coughing he'd been doing, but his brother didn't usually let something as measly as a cold put him down for the count. He'd just take some cold medicine, a hot shower, and deal.

"Yeah," Darry confirmed hoarsely, and let himself fall back onto the mattress.

Soda studied him before nodding. _Maybe he just needs a break._ "Okay, man. Well, why don't you rest up? I'll take Pony and we'll hunt down some action. Stay out of your hair."

Darry gave him a thumbs up, so Soda brought him some soup, some meds, and some water, and then he and Ponyboy headed to the drag races.

xxx

It really was just a cold. That was the troubling part. There was no fever and Darry stopped being a snot factory after just two days.

Still, whenever Darry wasn't at work, he appeared content on staying in his bed, seemingly averse to leaving the room or even getting up to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes, when Soda stuck his head in to check on him, he'd be reading the newspaper or he'd be asleep. But more often that not, he'd just be on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Vacant.

"What's going on with you man?" Soda asked him one day, taking a seat on the foot of his bed.

Darry was staring intently in the direction of a spider crawling on the ceiling, but his eyes weren't following its movement.

" _Darry_ ," Soda said again, and Darry flinched a little, looked at him blankly. "What's going on with you?" he repeated.

"I'm just tired, Soda," Darry said with a sigh, acting like it was no big deal.

 _Yeah, or depressed_ , Soda's brain supplied helpfully. It wasn't the first time he had allowed himself to think it.

Depression had pulled them all under at different times during the past year – it wouldn't be natural if it hadn't. They knew how to wait it out, how to deal with it. But this seemed like something more. Something that resembled dysfunction. Something more serious.

He needed to get Darry out of the house.

"Let's go out for dinner, huh?" he said with more enthusiasm than he was feeling. "How 'bout that new hotdog place? It's perfect weather out there, man."

"I know. I was out there working in it all day," Darry said, after too many seconds.

"So… that's a yes?" Soda asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Darry said, slowly pushing himself up. "Okay."

xxx

Doug's Dogs was really popping. It was a new stand set up outside of the park with picnic tables for "dining." Gourmet foot-long hotdogs for fifty cents, you couldn't really beat it.

"This is kind of lame," Two-Bit commented as they stood in line. He was watching two kids fight over a ball cap. He and Steve had come along.

It did seem like more of a family-type gathering, but Soda had heard great things about the hotdogs. He'd heard from four separate DX customers that he had to try this place.

"I bet Johnny would've liked to come here," Darry said softly, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. It was the first time he'd spoken on the walk here. "He always liked hotdogs in his mac and cheese."

Soda felt Ponyboy balk beside him. Johnny and Dallas's names were sort of taboo these days, but Darry had said Johnny's name so effortlessly that it was clear he'd forgotten that detail.

When they got up to the stand to place their order, Darry patted his pockets, looking lost. "Uh," he mumbled after a few seconds.

"What?" Soda asked, anxious.

"I-I might've left my wallet at home," Darry said, sort of breathy. "Damnit. I'll go back and get it. So _stupid._ " His face was deep red with embarrassment.

The guys all stared at him, wondering why he was getting so worked up.

"You don't have to go back, Dar," Soda told him gently. "I have my wallet."

Darry blinked. It was as if he hadn't even considered that prospect, and when he'd let it sink in, he gave them all a sheepish grin. "Oh," he said. "Okay."

"I think somebody's going nutty," Steve joked under his breath before addressing the cashier with his order.

Soda would've laughed…

But it wasn't funny.


	2. Chapter 2

Two-Bit's mom was engaged.

That was the big news the night the gang came over for dinner. Darry had been working hard in the kitchen, cooking his infamous Shepherd's Pie, while Two-Bit gave a detailed soliloquy of how the proposal had gone down.

The boys had all met Mrs. Mathews's husband-to-be on a couple occasions. He was a nice guy – a defense lawyer – and was pretty well off. Everyone had known the proposal was coming – they'd been dating for over a year now.

Soda knew that Two-Bit respected the guy, so it was no surprise that he was all smiles and bursting with excitement as he told the proposal story.

"He came to me a week ago and asked my permission to propose," Two-Bit told them. "How can you say no to a guy who does _that_? Anyway, it happened yesterday… He took Ma on a day trip to Natural Falls in Colcord, and proposed right there under the waterfall!"

"Smooth dude," Soda commented.

"You could take a lesson or two from him with your many blondes, Mathews," Ponyboy said with a smirk.

Two-Bit laughed. "Big shot here thinks he can lecture me on the ladies," he said, jumping up and taking Ponyboy in a headlock. He messed up his hair. "Holler uncle."

"No way," Ponyboy grit out. He managed to slide out of Two-Bit's hold on him and suddenly had Two-Bit pegged to the floor.

Steve laughed. "You're getting slow in your old age there, Two-Bit. You just let the shrimp get one over on you."

Ponyboy glowered in Steve's direction. "I ain't a shrimp." But he let go of Two-Bit and stood up proudly, fixing his hair.

Two-Bit continued with his story – how his mom didn't know it was coming, how he and his sister had helped pick out the ring… But Soda stopped listening.

The timer on the oven was going off – had been for almost a minute now - and Soda found himself slinking away as his feet carried him into the kitchen.

He poked his head in the doorway. His brother was sitting at the table, elbows on the surface and his head in his hands. There wasn't a newspaper or anything in front of him. He was just sitting there as the timer blared around him. Well, what the hell.

"Darry?"

He didn't look up.

Soda swore he had to say everything twice these days. _"Darry_ ," he repeated, louder.

Darry snapped his head up jerkily. "Yeah?"

Soda gave him a pointed look. "Uh… the timer's going off, man." He nodded at the oven. "Don't you hear it?"

"Hmm, yeah, I hear it," Darry said simply. He pushed himself away from the table and stood up with a sigh. "Set the table, will ya?"

"Yeah, sure," Soda said, but his feet didn't move.

He watched Darry as he switched the timer off and then put oven mitts on. He pulled the glass dish out of the oven and started making his way with it to the table. Halfway there though, he seemed to stumble over his own feet in the process. He caught himself on the back of a kitchen chair, but the dish flew out of his mitts and crashed onto the floor.

Glass exploded all around them.

Soda would've laughed at Darry's uncharacteristic display of clumsiness, if all the color hadn't drained from his brother's face.

"Darry, man, you okay?"

Darry took in a short, panicked breath. He closed his eyes.

Seeing his brother's heaving chest, Soda felt the need to reassure him. "C'mon it ain't a big deal."

He heard approaching footsteps, no doubt curious about the crash. "What happened?" Ponyboy asked, his breath hot on Soda's neck, behind him.

"What does it look like, genius?" Steve said.

Soda held a hand behind him, keeping them at a distance. He took a step closer to Darry, who still hadn't reopened his eyes.

"Darry?" Soda said again, his voice unsure.

That was about the time Darry turned, wound up, and started kicking the metal drawer below the oven.

The sound was deafening, and took them all by surprise. "Holy shit," Soda heard Two-Bit whisper.

Darry was barefoot and as he continued to kick at the drawer, his bare feet landed on the shards of hot glass that littered the floor.

Steve was the first to spring into action. He pushed past Soda – who still couldn't move – and snagged Darry around the middle. He tried to drag him backwards, away from the oven, but Darry was too strong. "Two-Bit, get Pony outta here," Steve ordered frantically, while Darry bucked beneath him. And then, "Soda, a little help?"

That's when Soda finally snapped out of it. Darry was still kicking at the oven, but Steve's hold on him was making it harder for him to do so. Instead, Darry's arms had started grabbing at the pots on the stove and he sent them crashing to floor.

"Darry!" Soda exclaimed, crossing the room to his brother to help Steve restrain him. He was grateful that he and Steve were both still wearing their shoes from their shift at the DX. "Stop it!" Soda begged. He stood between the oven and Darry, grabbing ahold of Darry's wrists and planting his arms firmly at his sides. "Just calm down, Dar. Please."

Darry was panting heavily, trying to get loose from their hold on him.

Soda felt dizzy and tried hard not to cry as he held his brother's arms with a death grip.

A few terrifying minutes of this, and Darry went limp. His head fell forward onto Soda's chest. Steve released his hold on him and took a step back, eyes wide with concern.

Soda wrapped his arms around Darry's back, stumbling a little as he took on the full weight of his brother. He could feel Darry trembling beneath him.

They all stood there, catching their breath until…

"Soda?" Steve said cautiously, looking down at Darry's feet, where a puddle of blood had started to pool.

Tears sprung into Soda's eyes. Over a lump in his throat, he said to Steve, "Help me get him to his room? I think he needs to lie down."

Steve nodded in agreement, slipped one of Darry's arms around his shoulder, and he and Soda walked him down the hallway and into his bedroom.

xxx

After hunting down the first aid kit, Soda did what he could for Darry. He was thankful for Two-Bit for consoling Ponyboy in the TV room, and he was thankful for Steve for holding onto Darry's hand while he pulled glass out of his foot.

"What're you doing?" Darry asked from his supine position in bed, head lolling slightly to the side. He was submissive as ever now.

"Fixing you up," Soda replied from the floor at the foot of the bed. There were already bruises forming on the tops of Darry's toes where he'd kicked at the drawer.

"Are you mad?" Darry asked, sounding all of five years old.

"No, I'm not mad," Soda told him, his voice cracking. _Just scared out of my fucking mind._ He could feel his hand trembling as he went to remove another shard of glass with his dad's old pair of tweezers. Tears were slipping down his face, making his vision swim.

"I think I need to go to sleep," Darry announced weakly, sounding impossibly tired. "Is that okay?"

And that's when Soda started to break down. Sobs wracked in his chest. He couldn't do this.

Steve, seeing his best friend begin to crumple, first gave Darry the permission he was seeking. "Yeah, Superman. Get some rest, man." He squeezed his shoulder before standing up and going to the foot of the bed. He knelt down next to his friend, putting a comforting hand on his back. Delicately, he took the tweezers from Soda's quaking hand. "Pull yourself together and then go talk to Ponyboy, okay?" he instructed, gently, into his ear. "I'll finish patching him up."

Soda sniffed, tried to calm down. He ran his hands over his face and nodded.

"Hey, look at me," Steve said, when Soda stood up.

Soda did.

"He'll be okay," Steve asserted firmly, locking eyes with his friend. "Yeah?"

Soda looked away to gaze at his brother's still form on the bed. "Yeah," he repeated hoarsely.

Because he had to be.

xxx

When Sodapop returned to the TV room, Ponyboy and Two-Bit looked up at him with distraught and questioning eyes.

And Soda didn't know what the hell to tell them.


	3. Chapter 3

Soda didn't sleep that night.

After Ponyboy had finally given into oblivion, Soda had crept into Darry's bed with him and sat vigil for the night. He dozed at best.

But Darry, he slept like log, didn't stir once as far as Soda could tell.

And Soda sat beside him, listening to his brother's steady breaths, and wretchedly repeating to himself: _he's okay, we're all okay_.

xxx

Darry started to stir around 6:30 a.m. He was waking up. Soda could tell from his breathing.

Darry let out a morning groan and brought his hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He turned his head to face Soda, and blinked in surprise at the sight of his brother. "What's goin' on?" he asked hoarsely, obviously confused as to why Soda was in his bed. "You okay?"

"Me?" Soda cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Darry blinked again and sat up, untangling his legs from the bed sheets. Steve must've pulled his jeans off for him because he was clad only in boxers and a T-shirt. He tilted his head at Soda, like he truly didn't remember.

"You want to tell me what happened last night?" Soda edged.

Darry started to repeat him. "What happened last…?" And then his eyes got wide. "Oh, _shit_." He jumped up. "I-I gotta go clean the kitchen up. _Fuck._ "

Soda jumped up with him, grabbed him by the shoulders before he could leave the room. "You don't have to do anything, Dar," Soda said. "Except talk to me. Sit back down, okay?"

Darry swallowed, not taking his eyes off the door, flustered. "But…"

"Two-Bit took care of the mess. There's nothin' left to clean up, all right? Now sit."

Darry pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. He allowed Soda to push him back down onto the bed.

Soda sunk down beside him. He waited a few beats before asking, "What's going on with you, man?"

Darry tried the easy way out, like Soda knew he would. "I'm fine."

Soda put a gentle hand on his brother's knee. "No you're not," he said, frowning. "Darry, c'mon."

Darry reached up to scratch his head, and Soda realized that maybe he didn't have an explanation. "I think I'm tired, is all." He sounded like he was guessing. "Not gettin' enough sleep."

"You've been sleep-deprived for over a year now, Darry – we all have – but this is the first time you've had a meltdown… over what? A broken dish?"

Darry hung his head and was quiet for nearly a full minute. Soda waited him out. Finally, he said, "It wasn't a meltdown."

"Then what was it?"

Darry had never been easy to split wide open when talking about his emotions. He was a closed book, always seemed to keep on going the way he was going. Head down, hard face. But Soda must've used the magic tone of voice because his brother opened up to him.

"I dunno," Darry admitted brokenly. "I just get worked up over things that don't even matter. I don't know why – I never used to. And when I dropped that dish, I-I just felt so…" he trailed off, his voice thick with emotion and his breaths coming quick.

"… So what…?" Soda asked tenderly, searching his brother's face.

Darry's overflowing eyes met his. "Hopeless," he whispered, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Soda felt like he'd been stabbed right in the heart. "Darry…" He put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder, desperate to provide comfort.

But Darry was already composing himself.

"Maybe you should take off work for a while," Soda suggested. "You get vacation time, don't you?"

Darry sniffed, ran his hands through his hair. "Not paid."

"So what?"

Darry looked at him incredulously. "We can't afford for me to take time off. We need the money."

Soda licked his lips. "Dar, this ain't about what 'we' need. This is about what _you_ need. And you need a break, man. Don't tell me you don't."

Darry cleared his throat gruffly. He wasn't having it.

"I could pick up some extra shifts at the DX. Ponyboy could get a job cuttin' grass or somethin'."

Darry shook his head. "Ponyboy is still recovering from bein' sick," he said firmly. "He needs to take it easy this summer."

Darry wasn't wrong. Ponyboy was still underweight and was really struggling to put the pounds back on – even now: two months after the night Johnny and Dallas died. He'd lost an unhealthy amount of weight the week he was in Windrixville, and lost even more when he'd gotten sick in the weeks following his return.

Soda sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He glanced at Darry, tilted his head to the side. "Will you at least take today off?"

Darry took in a deep breath, and Soda could tell he wanted to tell him no. But he relented. "Sure, little buddy," he allowed. "If that's what it takes to give you some peace of mind."

Soda smiled meekly. "Thanks." He licked his lips. "Can I ask you a question, though?"

Darry shrugged. "It's a free country."

He was unmistakably trying to lighten the mood, but Soda needed to keep it real for a little bit longer. "You said you were feeling hopeless last night," he stated, looking down at his hands. He needed to know the answer to the question he was about to ask, but he wasn't sure he'd like the answer. "H-How are you feeling now?" _Do you still feel bad?_

Darry sighed. "Soda, look at me," he said quietly.

Soda did, reluctantly.

"I get that you're worried, okay? And I'm sorry that I scared you. But—"

"Darry," Soda cut him off. "Answer the question."

Darry closed his mouth, surprised that his brother had interrupted him. He seemed to ponder his answer for a while. "You want to know how I'm feeling right now?" he asked, in almost a challenging tone. When Soda nodded, he said lightly, "Well, little brother, I am feeling _hungry_. Starving, really."

Soda raised his eyebrows, because he was pretty sure Darry hadn't been hungry in ages now. He also knew Darry was avoiding giving him a true answer. "Really?" he asked skeptically.

But Darry stood by his answer. "Yeah. _Somebody_ totally dropped the ball on dinner last night." He chuckled lightly. Then he gave Soda's knee a quick pat and stood up. "I'm going to make pancakes."

Part of Soda wanted to shake his brother, yell at him, tell him this wasn't a freaking joke. But the other part of Soda – the bigger part, wanted to believe everything was okay. He wanted that so badly.

So instead of calling Darry on his bullshit, Soda returned his smile and said, "With chocolate chips?"

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

In the days that followed, Darry seemed better – more expressive and livelier. Whether that was because he was out of his slump or because of his increased alcohol consumption, Soda wasn't sure.

Yes, Darry could be seen nursing a bottle of beer on the regular these days.

But as long as he was upbeat and out of bed, Soda allowed himself to relax a little.

One night – a Saturday –Two-Bit and Steve came over for a night of Texas Hold 'Em and Blackjack. Beers and cigarettes on the line, and Darry cleaned up.

"Damn, what's your secret, old man?" Two-Bit grumped as Darry's two pair trumped his two kings.

Darry smirked his rare shit-eating grin and scooped his winnings closer. "Ante up," he said with a wink.  
_  
_ Steve caught Soda's eye, looking hopeful. He raised his eyebrows.

And Soda nodded. _He's okay, we're all okay._

Oh, how wrong he was.

xxx

Just like that, Darry was sick again.

At first, Soda thought it was a routine hangover, but when the vomiting didn't cease and the coughing began, he chalked it up to something more. The fever started around dinnertime.

"This came on really fast," Ponyboy commented quietly from the doorway as Soda wiped Darry's brow with a cool cloth.

"Sure did," Soda returned hoarsely. He fluffed the pillows Darry was propped up against. "You doin' okay, Dar?"

Darry hummed noncommittally and coughed harshly into his elbow. His eyes were glossy and his hair clung messily to his sweat-damp forehead. He looked so miserable, Soda almost couldn't stand it.

"Here," Soda said, grabbing for a tissue when Darry sniffed loudly. Darry it took it from him, but seemed to lack the energy to raise it to his face. Soda had to guide his hand. "You're a mess."

Ponyboy was still lingering by the doorway.

"Hey, Pone. Will you keep Darry company for a while?" Soda asked hopefully. "I'm going to heat him up some soup."

"Yeah, sure, Soda," Pony answered, stepping into the room to join Darry on the bed. "Does soup sound good to you, Darry?"

Darry didn't seem to hear. He just blinked, and blinked, and blinked.

Soda swallowed hard and cupped his ailing brother's cheek to get his attention. "Darry?"

Finally, Darry gazed up at him.

"Would you like to try some soup?"

He took a moment to process the question. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I'll go make some." He pressed down against the mattress, making to get out of bed.

"Hey," Soda said gently, pushing his brother back down. He frowned. "I'll bring the soup to you, man. You just stay in here with Ponyboy, all right?" He felt like he was talking to a small child.

Darry blinked again. "Yeah," he breathed, panting a little. "Okay."

Ponyboy caught Soda's eye as he turned to go, looking considerably concerned and fearful – the same as Soda felt. It seemed as though Darry was shutting down again.

But the last thing Soda wanted to do was scare Ponyboy. So he shrugged and grinned at the kid. "Ponyboy, maybe you can read Darry your summer reading book," he suggested with fake cheerfulness. "I bet he'd like that, right Dar?"

Darry nodded blankly, and Soda suspected he hadn't heard a word.

"Okay." Soda grabbed the box of tissues and placed it in Darry's lap. "I'll be back in a few."

xxx

As Soda stood at the stove, stirring the can of chicken noodle soup, he realized how anxious he was.

He could feel his heart beating in his chest and his hands were shaking slightly.

 _Stop it_ , he tried to command himself. _It's just the flu. That's all this is._

But somehow he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that told him there was more to it than that.

He lowered the heat on the stove, and reached for the phone.

xxx

"Can you come over?" Soda asked, clutching the receiver to his ear.

_"Now? I'm going to the drive-in with Evie tonight, man. You know that."_

Soda rested his forehead against the wall. "I know," he said softly, trying to keep the wobble out of his voice. "It's just…"

He paused, because he wasn't sure what to say. What _was_ it?

 _"What, Soda?"_ Steve's voice sobered. _"You sound funny. Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine," Soda answered hurriedly. "But…" he trailed off.

What was he doing? Was he really going to ask Steve to cancel his date because of a bad _feeling_?

"You know what, i-it's probably nothing," Soda rushed to say, his face turning red from embarrassment. "Have fun with Evie. Forget I called."

 _"Whoa, hold up,"_ Steve cut in, before Soda could hang up the receiver. _"What's going on?"_

Soda was quiet as he fiddled with the phone cord and tried to come up with the right words to explain.

_"…Is it Darry?"_

Soda exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Yeah, it is." He went on to tell Steve how Darry had woken up sick and how detached he seemed. "S-Something's not right," Soda said brokenly, his voice wrecked. "And I just… I need you here, man."

 _"Okay, I'll come,"_ Steve said resolutely – no hesitation. He was always willing to drop everything for Soda and that was the main reason Soda considered him to be his best friend. It was silent on the other line for a moment, and then, _"How's the kid handling all this?"_  
  
Soda processed the question, not entirely sure he'd heard correctly. "Ponyboy? Since when do you give a hang about him?" he asked, genuinely curious.

 _"Since Windrixville_ ," Steve answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. _"How's he doin'?"_

Soda sighed. "I think he's as freaked as I am," he answered, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "I dunno. We're probably just being paranoid."

 _"Curtis, you and I both know you aren't being paranoid,"_ Steve said seriously. _"I'll be there in 10. Hang in there, man."_

He ended the call.

Soda hung up the phone and returned to the stove, giving the soup one last stir before taking it to Darry.


	5. Chapter 5

Darry had only managed about six bites of soup before he lost interest and set his spoon down. Soda tried to feed him some more, but was unsuccessful. Darry had started to break out in a cold sweat and had lost some color in his cheeks, so Soda decided not to push it. He didn't want Darry to lose the very little that he'd eaten.

He fell asleep shortly after.

Soda and Ponyboy exited the room, making sure to leave Darry's door open so they could hear him if he needed anything.

Steve arrived around 7:00. Soda was sitting on the couch, mindlessly watching the news, and Ponyboy had excused himself into his bedroom to read.

When Soda explained that Darry had fallen asleep, Steve pulled out a deck of cards and insisted that poker was the best option for a distraction.

Naturally, Soda agreed.

Around 8:30, Soda started hearing Darry toss and turn in his bed.

Steve heard it too. "He sounds restless," he commented, as he dealt the next hand.

Soda looked wearily towards the hallway. "Yeah," he sighed. "I should probably go check on him."

Steve followed.

Darry was awake, sitting up in his bed, coughing harshly into his elbow. Soda flipped on the light, and was greeted with a bleary-eyed big brother, lips and nose chapped pink. Soda crossed the room to put a hand on the back of Darry's neck, the overwhelming heat prompting him to check his fever.

The way Darry was struggling to hold his head up made Soda think his temperature was going to be soaring. Steve had to join Darry on the bed to help keep him upright while Soda hunted down the thermometer.

It didn't go unnoticed by Soda that Darry barely even acknowledged their presence. He just hummed responses when they asked him questions and sniffed, and sniffed, and sniffed until they pressed tissues on him.

Darry's temperature was a high 101, which was bad, but not that bad. Soda thought he might have felt better if his brother's vacant expressions and weakness could have been explained by delirium.

At one point, Steve fetched Darry some Tylenol and a glass of water. Darry was able to take the pills, but when they tried to get him to drink some more water, he coughed and gagged relentlessly.

"He sounds fucking awful," Steve said, biting down on his lip.

Soda let out a deep breath. "I know." He ran a hand through Darry's sweat-damp hair. "I think I'm going to sit with him until he falls back asleep. You don't have to stay in here."

Steve nodded. He flipped off the light and retreated to the TV room.

Soda helped Darry lie back down, and then rubbed his chest until he dropped off.

xxx

Soda and Steve were sitting side-by-side on the couch in the dark. _The Tonight Show_ was playing softly on the television set – the only source of light left in the house. Ponyboy had gone to bed over an hour ago.

When the show ended, Steve put his hand on Soda's knee. "You should go to bed, Curtis," he said gently.

Soda didn't think he'd be able to sleep, and he started to tell Steve that, when a light flipped on in Darry's room.

Without hesitation, Soda and Steve jumped up to see what had woken him.

Once again, Darry was sitting up in bed, his legs slightly pulled into his body, akimbo. He'd knocked the cup of water to the floor, probably when he reached to turn on his nightstand lamp.

"Where's Ponyboy?" he asked when they entered the room. His eyes were huge; his voice was wrecked.

"He's in his room," Soda answered, bending down to pick up the fallen cup from the carpeted floor. "He's asleep."

That answer didn't seem to make sense to Darry. He frowned hard. "Soda?" he said, and he sound so strange – impossibly young. He shook his head like he had water in his ears.

Steve and Soda made brief eye-contact before Soda knelt down beside the bed, not caring that his pant leg was becoming damp from the spilled water. "What's going on, Dar?" he asked, grabbing ahold of his brother's hand.

Darry didn't answer him, and Soda reached up to feel his forehead. He couldn't tell if he was any warmer. He didn't think so.

Darry's eyes flicked to Steve and then they landed back on Soda. He was completely docile when he said, "Something's wrong."

Soda felt his heart leap into his throat. "What?" he asked, feeling light-headed. "What's wrong?"

"It's _all_ wrong," Darry whispered. He gazed in Steve's direction, but it was like he was looking through him. "Why did he run away? Where is he?"

Soda felt sick – apprehensive. He turned Darry's cheek to face him. "Darry, Ponyboy is home," he said softly, but firm. "He came back. Do you remember that?"

Darry was panting lightly. "He's home?"

"Steve, go wake Pony and bring him in here," Soda said, trying not to sound frantic for Darry's sake. Steve obeyed and withdrew immediately. "Ponyboy's home, Darry. He's okay," Soda murmured to his brother. "You're just sick; that's why you can't remember."

"I'm sick?" Darry said.

"Yeah, you sure are."

Ponyboy entered the room moments later, looking terribly frightened and Soda couldn't blame him.

"See, Dar?" Steve said from the doorway, nudging the kid into the room. "He's right here."

"I'm right here," Ponyboy repeated, and joined Soda at Darry's bedside. Darry immediately reached out to grab his youngest brother's hand and held it tightly.

Ponyboy looked up at Soda with watery eyes. "What's going on?" he asked, voice shaking.

"I don't know, kiddo," Soda answered. He looked at his friend, desperately. "Steve…?"

"We should check his temp again," Steve said, tenuously calm. He grabbed the thermometer from the nightstand and held it in front of Darry's face. "You know the drill, Superman."

Darry's temperature was down to 100, which would have been good news, had Darry been lucid. Soda was about ready to lose his mind.

"That's it," he said, standing up. "We're going to the hospital." He didn't know what else to do. "Let's go."

He's was expecting Darry to protest, even now. But he didn't. He made to get out of bed – limbs quaking.

Ponyboy and Steve backed Soda's split-second decision, and helped get Darry clothed and into the truck.

"I'll drive," Steve announced with firm resolve.

And Soda was grateful, because his hands were too numb to wipe the tears that were falling from his eyes – let alone grip a damn steering wheel.


	6. Chapter 6

At the hospital, Darry sagged against Soda's shoulder like Raggedy Ann while they waited to see a doctor. He wasn't high on the triage list since his fever wasn't skyrocketing and he wasn't bleeding or sporting a fracture.

It wasn't until he started throwing up again, two hours later, that they took him back for examination. Steve wasn't allowed in the exam room – family only – and Ponyboy seemed so upset – _worried_ – that Soda advised him to stay back.

Steve hooked an arm around the kid, a silent promise to Soda that he'd keep an eye on him.

In the exam room, Sodapop answered all of the doctors' questions to the best of his ability. Darry hadn't spoken since they'd arrived, and remained quiet when inquiries were directed at him.

_Does he have any pre-existing medical conditions? Has he ever struggled with depression? Has he gone through any significant trauma recently?_

Soda wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, or sob, or both. But the kicker was, he couldn't do either. He couldn't become hysterical because Darry needed him to keep it together.

He's not sure how, but he managed to stay calm as he held his brother's hand and the doctors ran a glut of tests. He hated how pliable Darry's body seemed. The staff would move him into all different sorts of positions – to test his reflexes – and his limbs would just stay wherever they were moved.

He reminded Soda of a wax figurine.

When any physical causes had been ruled out, the doctors explained to Soda that they believed Darry was suffering from a major depressive episode. Worse, they said that he was exhibiting signs of the beginning stages of catatonic depression.

They started talking about benzodiazepines and atypical antipsychotics and other medication options that Soda couldn't even pronounce.

And he couldn't handle it anymore. Not on his own.

Ears ringing, he made a hasty retreat into the waiting room.

Steve promptly stood and pulled Soda into an embrace, just as Soda was processing the fact that Two-Bit was here. Rick too.

Ponyboy was slumped against Two-Bit's shoulder, fast asleep. Rick was on the other side of Ponyboy, gently rubbing his arm in a soothing gesture.

Steve must've have called them.

Thank God.

"Don't cry, Soda," Steve murmured into his ear, before Soda even realized he was. "Just come sit down, tell us what's going on."

He guided Soda to an empty chair and then woke Ponyboy so he could hear.

Soda relayed what the doctors had said to the best of his ability. It was hard when his voice kept breaking and sobs kept wracking in his chest. But then he had an armful of little brother who hugged him tight, and Soda reciprocated with all his might. Because Ponyboy – he was the one thing left to cling on to.

xxx

At some point during that nightmarish night, Darry was transferred out of the ER and into the psychiatric ward.

It was the dead of the night – past visiting hours – and Steve, Two-Bit, and Rick weren't allowed to stay. They hugged the brothers goodbye, with the promise they'd be back first thing in the morning.

It was eerily quiet, as Soda and Ponyboy sat vigil by Darry's bed.

At first, the brothers kept their distance, not sure what Darry needed. It wasn't until he began to heave that they threw caution to the wind, and wrapped their arms around him. They held him up while he spat stomach bile and juice into the emesis basin a nurse held in front of him.

When he was finished, he remained folded over, unmoving, until Soda pushed him back.

The nurse wiped his face with a cloth and rearranged his pillows. She was all smiles and soothing voices and Soda wanted to scream.

_Can't you see I'm losing my brother? Can't you see it?_

xxx

When Darry finally gave into sleep, Soda nudged Ponyboy and asked if he wanted to take a walk, get some fresh air.

That's how they found themselves in the hospital parking lot. Zombies.

Dawn was quickly approaching, but Sodapop was thinking about nothing and didn't notice.

He glanced over at Ponyboy, expecting to see a cancer stick in his mouth – even Soda was craving one right now – but instead, his brother was just staring down at the ground, hands jammed in his pockets.

"You okay?" Soda asked, his voice gruff and hoarse.

Ponyboy stopped walking then, turned to face him. His eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and that was enough of an answer. "What does this mean?" he croaked, close to breaking. "For us?"

And Soda felt so fucking terrible when he said, "I don't know, kid. I'm so out of my league here, I don't even—"

He stopped talking abruptly, when Ponyboy's overflowing tears started to fall from his eyes. "I don't want to lose him," he whispered. He bit down on his lip, but it was to no avail when he started crying more. "Soda, I don't want to lose you."

Soda wasted no time in pulling his brother close, resting his chin on top of Pony's head while he shuddered and sobbed into his shoulder.

 _This isn't fair_ , Soda thought, something he'd tried not think until now, because it would have driven him mad. But it _wasn't_ fair, goddamn it. After everything, why this?

"We're not going to lose him," Soda murmured into Ponyboy's hair. But the words felt all wrong on his lips, and Soda realized grimly that it was because he wasn't sure if they were the truth. But that didn't stop him from calmly speaking false reassurances. "He'll be okay. We're all going to be okay."

xxx

"They want to keep him here," Soda told Rick the following morning, as he soothingly rubbed the inside of Darry's wrist with his thumb. "For observation."

Health wise, Darry was stable. His fever was down, he'd been rehydrated with an IV, his stomach had stopped rebelling. It was his mental state that had prompted the doctors to advise a longer stay.

Rick leaned forward in his seat, so he could look Soda in the eyes. He cleared his throat gruffly. "Soda, I hate to ask this question, son, but I need you to be honest with me." He hesitated, and then: "Has Darry ever attempted suicide?"

Soda felt like the air had been knocked out of him. "No! Of course not! Jesus!"

Steve squeezed his shoulder to keep him from losing it completely.

Rick closed his eyes, softened his voice. "Okay, son, okay," he said. He went on to explain that he was asking because the only way a hospital could go against family wishes and legally hold a patient in a psychiatric ward was after an attempted suicide or a drug overdose. Rick let out a deep breath and glanced between Soda and Ponyboy. "So that begs the question: what do you think is best?"

"He needs to come home," Ponyboy said, without hesitation. And Sodapop had to agree. He knew half of Darry's rigidity was due to his distaste of hospitals.

"Okay," Rick said, and gently squeezed Soda's knee. "Then that's what we'll do."

xxx

They released Darry around 8:30pm that evening.

During the car ride home, Darry started crying and didn't stop.

It was a strange sensation, but Sodapop actually found relief in that. It was better than the hollowness that had swallowed them whole the past couple of days.

"Do I need to pull over?" Steve asked worriedly, looking back at the brothers in the rearview mirror.

Darry was hiding his face with a shaking arm, and Ponyboy was tugging on it gently, pulling it down with ease. "It'll be okay, Darry," he whispered. "We're going home now."

It was no coincidence that Darry seemed to relax at those words, though tears continued to slip down his face, sobs continued to wrack in his chest.

Soda wasn't sure when they would stop.

"Keep driving," he told his friend.

xxx

At home, when Darry was resting comfortably in bed, exhaustion caught up to Soda and his knees gave out as he was preparing some soup at the stove.

Two-Bit caught him. "Easy, buddy," he soothed and guided Soda to a kitchen chair. "Let me take care of that."

And then Sodapop felt a hand on his forehead and Rick was crouched in front of him, asking him if he was all right.

"Yeah, m'okay," Soda said, through his haze of fatigue, blinking rapidly to focus on Rick's face. "It's getting kind of late. You probably need to take off…" Even as Soda said the words, panic started to creep over him. He couldn't bear the thought of shouldering this one on his own, calling the shots.

"Sodapop," Rick said gently, as if reading his mind. "Do you need me to stay?"

 _Yes_ , Soda thought. But he couldn't ask that of him. Before tonight, Soda had only met Mrs. Mathews' husband-to-be on two previous occasions. He couldn't believe how much Rick had done for them so far.

"Soda?" Rick said again.

And Soda felt himself nodding, even though it went against every fiber of pride in his body. "Yes, please," he choked out.

That's when the dam broke.

xxx

Sodapop and Ponyboy crawled into Darry's bed that night, one on either side of their brother, like it was the most natural thing in the world. They huddled close to his warmth.

"Soda?" Darry whispered after a couple of moments. "Pony?"

And Soda's heart skipped. It sounded so good _, so good_ , to hear Darry's voice, no matter how broken and juvenile.

Soda squeezed his brother's hand. "Yeah, Dar, it's us. You need something?"

He heard Darry swallow, felt the shake of his head more than he saw it. It was quiet for a long time – so long that Soda didn't think he was going to say anything else. But then:

"I don't know how to be okay."

Soda breathed deeply, reached up to run his hand through Darry's hair.

"You don't have to know," he heard Ponyboy say quietly.

"Yeah, Darry," Soda agreed, through a sudden onslaught of emotions. "We're going to take care of you."

As the words tumbled out of his mouth, it occurred to Soda that Darry had never been told that before. And maybe that was just what he needed to hear.

Darry let out a shuddering breath, and started to cry again. But it wasn't the distressed sobbing from before. This time, Soda could tell he was crying from relief.

Soda scooted closer to him – so close that they fit together like a puzzle piece. He closed his eyes and he felt _safe_. He had his two best buddies and a newfound lifeline just outside the door – people he could count on.

But he felt the most safe _here_. Here, in bed, surrounded by the warmth of his brothers.

They would figure this out, together, just like they always do.

_Come what may._


End file.
